Revelations in Love
by LostForeverInHisEyes
Summary: It was just sex, until he stopped thinking about himself and started thinking about her. Then it got complicated. An one-shot introspective on Callen realising he's in love. Callen/OC. Romance, and a little bit of angst perhaps if you look close enough.


_A/N - The plot bunnies attacked with this last night and I had to write this so I could sleep. Decided this morning that it didn't seem too bad so I thought I'd share. A little thanks to Tiana-P and her story Foreign. After reading over the story this morning, I have a feeling the plot bunnies may have been remembering her story for a little bit of this.  
_

_Summary - It was just sex, until he stopped thinking about himself and started thinking about her. Then it got complicated. An one-shot introspective on Callen realising he's in love. Callen/OC_

_14/01/2011 - made a few minor corrections to spelling and missing words.  
_

_Rating - T_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o

Sex.

That was all it was supposed to be between them. At least in his eyes. He tried very hard not to think about what it was that he saw in hers.

As long as he kept his thoughts to that, to the way he felt when the fireworks went off in his mind and body, that was fine.

The problem came when he thought about the rest of it. When he thought about her, not about him.

And he couldn't stop those thoughts. Not unless he walked out the door and forgot about her.

Something he was finding harder and harder to do.

What he was finding even harder than that, was to stay away. He found himself on her doorstep more often than he found himself on the couch at the office, on the couch at Sam's place or in his own bed - combined.

If he could just keep his mind on the sex, it would be perfect.

Because everyone knew he wasn't cut out for relationships. His never lasted and they usually ended badly, not to mention that he really had no idea when, or if, he'd actually come back from a mission. He wasn't a relationship kind of guy.

But he couldn't.

His mind kept remembering her smile, the sparkle in her eyes, the joy she found in the simplest of things. He remembered how she felt beneath his hands and his lips, not just the way he felt beneath hers. The way the curves of her body fitted perfectly with his, the softness of her skin and the way it heated under the slightest touch from him. The way her cheeks flushed when he kissed her. How every part of her responded to him, how she didn't hold back. She opened up to him in a way no one ever had. She gave him everything she had to give. And he took it, like a dying man in a desert who had just found the coolest, most abundant water that tasted like heaven.

When she smiled, it lit up her eyes and the room and he couldn't think of anything else except to find a way to make her smile again. When she cupped his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, like she was trying to figure him out, he couldn't look away; the back of his mind screaming through the walls he'd built to let her in. When she made him sit down whilst she cooked dinner on the nights when he was planning on taking her out, except he'd had a bad day at the office and wasn't up to it; somehow she knew and somehow ... he felt like he was home.

She never said a word. He didn't know what her voice sounded like, except when the small passionate whimpers and moans escaped her when he touched her. How he wanted to hear those sounds, how he strived for them every time they were together. She never said a word, because she couldn't. She'd been born deaf. She didn't speak because she didn't know how and it had frustrated her too much trying to learn so she'd stopped. She signed and read lips and that was all she needed.

The first time they met was at a coffee shop. She'd bumped into him and he'd managed to catch her coffee before she lost it, as well as stop her falling. She'd looked up and smiled her thanks.

And that was the moment when he was hit with a massive amount of desire and a physical reaction that had shocked him into a stunned silence for what felt like hours but in reality was only a few seconds.

Her charcoal eyes, her light brown hair, her soft pink lips and matching cheeks. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone else. He knew it was physical and, for once he didn't care. Didn't care what Sam would say knowing he was pursuing a woman just for the sex. Pursuing, not just going out to some club and finding someone who was willing. But pursuing a particular woman with that sole purpose in mind. One night, just one night was what he was going to aim for.

He wanted to know how her hair smelt, how soft it was, what it would look like spread over the pillow, over his chest. What it felt like to have his fingers tangled in it. He wanted to know how soft those lips were, how soft her skin was to touch, how it tasted. He wanted to feel the leap of her pulse when he kissed it. And he wanted to hear her moan his name when he took her over that edge, when everything disappeared and the world revolved around two bodies that were one and nothing else mattered; at least for that moment in time.

He'd opened his mouth to say something witty and charming; some line that was sure to get another smile and lead him right into an opening for asking her out. He didn't care that he hadn't known her for more than about ten seconds. He knew what he wanted and for once, he was going to go after it. He needed to go after it. It was a primal need, something he hadn't consciously thought about, something that just was in him that he couldn't deny.

He was pretty sure that this wasn't quite what Hetty had meant when she said he should stop and smell the roses. But he was going to - because she did smell like roses. Beyond the coffee scent he could smell it; there was a soft and gentle, sweet and delicate floral scent that he knew came from her. But before he'd managed to say anything, she'd signed _Sorry_.

He knew that sign. He knew a little, not enough though. His mouth closed before the words got out, his mind kicking in quickly that if he planned on having this woman, his ordinary flirty, charming tactics weren't going to work. How could they if she couldn't hear the inflections and tones in his voice that would make it clear that he was interested.

So he'd managed to sign back, _It's okay_ and smile at her. He'd handed back her coffee, she signed _Thank you_ and moved away to a table where she sat and started to sip the coffee as she pulled a book out of her bag to read.

He'd moved up the queue and placed his order, his mind continuing to work overtime on how he was going to go about this. He'd managed to get some information out of the server at the counter. Not a name, but did find out she was a regular. He'd left the coffee shop, glancing over at her as he did, but she was absorbed in her book and didn't look at him as he opened the door and stepped outside. He was late that day, did his usual banter with Sam about some crazy reason for why; though this time it wasn't the truth.

Because he wasn't about to tell Sam that he had just spent twenty minutes sitting in his car, across the street from the coffee shop, watching her through the window as she slowly drank her coffee and read her book. He wasn't about to tell Sam that he followed her when she had left. Followed her to a school - one for the deaf - that he guessed she worked at. And he certainly wasn't going to tell Sam that he had been sitting in his car, outside the office for five minutes, trying to figure out what he was going to do to ensure he found a way into her bed, and soon. Because that would be asking for a whole lot more trouble with Sam than he would get with Hetty for being half an hour late.

He found Eric that afternoon, asked him to teach him to sign better. He knew a little but needed more. He didn't want to have to spell out his entire seduction; he didn't think that would be very effective. There was a small part of him that told him not to do this. To leave it be, leave her alone. Leave it as a small run in at a coffee shop that he would forget about in a few days. That she deserved more than to be pursued simply for sex.

But he couldn't. He stayed up that night until four am practicing everything Eric had taught him, surfing and searching the Internet and learning even more. The same with the next two nights until he felt confident he could have a decent signing conversation with her. He was glad he was a quick study, because three days of cold showers was definitely not what he wanted.

The next day he went back to the coffee shop and waited until he saw her enter. Then he followed. She was already sitting at the table reading by the time he had his coffee. He went and sat down beside her. She jumped a little at the intrusion as his arm deliberately brushed against hers.

He smiled and signed _Hi._

_Hi. _She smiled back, that smile that turned his blood hot, sent it singing through his body and made him temporarily lose his focus. Just briefly, not even enough for her to notice even if he did.

_I'm Callen. _

_I'm Nikki.  
_

_We bumped into each other a few days ago._

She nodded. _I remember you. You saved me from a disastrous encounter with hot coffee._

He smiled. This was good. She remembered him fondly. The small flicker of her eyes over what she could see of him told him she liked what she saw too. It gave him confidence and he ploughed right in.

_Any chance I could be rewarded for that by taking you out to dinner?_

Her eyebrows lifted and she looked a little confused and curious. _Shouldn't I be the one taking you out?_

He grinned and changed tactics smoothly. _If you insist. I'll meet you here Saturday. 10am._

He stood up, grabbed his coffee and left, glancing back at her from the door to see her eyes wide and shock on her face. He grinned and signed _See you soon_. She smiled back and shook her head slightly in disbelief. He left before she could stop him and say no.

He hadn't expected to find her there on Saturday morning but, much to his delight and surprise, she was. They spent the day together. They walked along the beach, barefoot; they ate hot-dogs in the park. They went to a garden he didn't even know existed. She loved smelling the different flowers, touching the petals, feeling the different textures of the plants. She showed him a whole new way to appreciate nature. It was one of the best days he'd had in a very long time. Eventually it was time for dinner and he certainly wasn't ready to let her leave him yet.

He knew where he wanted to take her. There was this restaurant, just at the top of a hill that looked out over the beach. A place where you could see the stars from the rooftop because the owner had made sure the lights didn't intrude. The lights were very low, just enough to be able to see where you were stepping, just enough to light up the person you were with so you could see them. You could hear the waves rolling in, smell the salt in the air, hear the soft music that was playing through the speakers that had been set up. It was a very romantic setting, especially with the little table with a single candle and two bowls of ice cream that he had asked the owner to set up for him. He'd also 'convinced' the owner with a small monetary contribution to ensure they had twenty minutes of uninterrupted privacy. He'd taken her up to the roof after they'd eaten dinner, where dessert was ready and waiting. Strawberry ice cream for her. He'd found out that day that strawberries were her favourite fruit. Chocolate for him. He was particular about Chocolate ice cream and this restaurant did some of the best in the city.

It was there that he first kissed her, even though he'd wanted to do it several times throughout the day. He had a plan and he'd managed to follow it. They'd finished their ice cream and were watching the stars on the clear night, standing so close that their arms were touching. He'd turned his body toward her, cupped her chin and tilted her face toward him. He'd lowered his head, watching her reaction. The smile she gave sent ripples through his entire body, or maybe that was simply the reaction to touching his lips to hers that came right after he'd noted the smile. Her body turned into his, her arms slipped around his neck as his had slipped around her waist and pulled her close. Her mouth had opened eagerly under his and their tongues danced as if they'd been doing this for a lifetime. The strokes, the dips, the touches and battles; so in sync, so perfect, he didn't want to stop - he wanted to know how perfect everything else would be between them. But he did stop. It took every ounce of willpower in him to stop. But stop he did, because less than twenty minutes wasn't anywhere near enough time. Because the rooftop of a restaurant wasn't the place for this; for him to give in to his desires, his need to taste her, feel her wrapped around him, feel what it was like to be one with her. He needed to take her home for that.

He took her home, she invited him in. He smiled and stepped through the door, closing it behind him. He pulled her back into his arms before she could get too far away and kissed her again; barely restraining his need for her. He gave it everything, leaving just a small part of himself in control and listening in case she said no, in whatever way she could. Because even though he wanted this more than anything, he wasn't going to just take. She needed to want him too.

And she did. She returned his kiss with just as much passion, desire and need as he seemed to have for her. She'd pulled back just once and he'd felt a wave of disappointment crash over him at the thought of this stopping. But she'd taken his hand and led him to her bedroom. He asked if she was sure. One last ditch effort to be a gentleman before he let his desire for this woman free, before he gave just as much pleasure as he took.

That night had been the first time he'd heard her make those sounds. Sounds that had made his heart leap, though he would deny that for a long time. The heart doesn't have a place in sex. The heart had a place in a relationship and this wasn't a relationship. It couldn't be, because if it was, she'd just get hurt and he wouldn't do that to her.

It was just supposed to be sex.

Until he thought about her. Until he remembered the look in her eyes when she smiled, or when she was above him, or below him, or beside him. Until he remembered the look in her eyes as she was about to go over the edge; the look that told him this was not just sex for her. She was giving herself to him, because she cared, because she loved him. And when he looked in her eyes at that moment, he felt something - he felt the same. And he fought it. And he swore to himself each time he left, that he wouldn't be back.

But the nights when he couldn't go to her, or wouldn't go to her, he dreamt about her. About her charcoal grey eyes, about her soft skin, about those little sounds that he wanted to hear. About the way her hair settled on his chest, about the feel of her in his arms when she slept, and about that look in her eyes. And more often than not, the next night he'd find himself back at her apartment, back in her arms and her bed, and back getting lost to the rest of the world.

He didn't stay the night. She'd go to sleep and he'd slip away. She never asked him to stay. She made it clear though that he was welcome to. And she never asked why he wouldn't or why he left only once she was asleep. And he was grateful for that, because he didn't want to answer that question. He couldn't even answer it to himself. Because the answer was simple. He was in love with her and he couldn't bear to say goodbye. Because he knew he should say it. That he should say it once and once only.

Because this was just sex and he should be able to walk away and never come back. He was an adult, a competent adult who should be able to follow a simple instruction that he gave himself. Don't go back. Let her go. Let her be free to find someone worthy of her love.

But the heart doesn't deal in sex alone and that was the problem. It wasn't sex, it was love. And he didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to have someone love him. Because he only brought danger into lives.

So he tried not to think about her, to just think about him. But each time it got harder. Each time he left, he left a little of his heart behind, until one night, he couldn't bring himself to leave. Because if he was honest with himself, and in matters of the heart he rarely was, she had his whole heart by then.

He tried to write it off that it had been a really tough week, he hadn't seen her in three days and he had the next day off. It seemed pointless to go home when he'd probably just find himself back here tomorrow morning anyway. So, before he could think too much about it, with her asleep in his arms, comfortably and warmly nestled into his body, he closed his eyes.

But sometime later they flew open as a nightmare descended and he tried to wake up, as he pulled himself out of it. He heard the scream that escaped him. Heard his raspy, uneven breaths and felt his heart beating erratically in his chest. And for a brief moment he felt two conflicting emotions. Relief and disappointment.

All relating to her.

Relief that she wouldn't have heard him, relief that she wouldn't see him terrified of something she couldn't see. Yet at the same time, there was disappointment that she wouldn't hear him, that she wouldn't wake up and see that he was afraid. That she wouldn't be there to comfort him, to help him calm down, to hold him and reassure him he was safe.

That was the moment when he realised that he was in love her. That was the moment when he realised this wasn't just sex. He wanted her, all of her - body, mind, soul and, most definitely, heart. He wanted it all. Needed it all. Needed her.

And he had no idea on how to let himself take it, because he already knew she'd willing give it to him. That in reality she already had. He just didn't know how to accept it.

That was also the moment when he felt her hand on his back, saw the concern in her eyes when he turned and looked at her face. Saw the concern grow as she saw his eyes. It was the moment when she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. It was the moment when the tears fell. Tears he hadn't let fall for years, tears for so many reasons and for so many people. And she held him, she let him cry, she comforted him and when he finally stopped, she kissed him and took his mind off everything except for her.

That was the first time that it was more than just physical, at least the first time that he admitted it was more.

He woke the next morning to see her sitting up, the sheet tucked up under her arms as she watched him. She seemed like she wanted to ask him something but she didn't. She just watched and waited, both of them unsure where this was going to go now.

She signed something to him, which he missed because the sheet dropped as she did and he got slightly distracted as he always did with looking at her body. He managed to focus as she repeated it. And he was shocked.

_I love you._

That was what she had signed. _I love you_. Followed by _I want to help but I don't know how_.

_You have_, he signed back. _What you did last night, that helped_.

She smiled at him and nodded. _Good. I'm glad._

With that she had made to stand up but he'd stopped her and she'd turned back to face him.

_I love you too_.

He signed and spoke the words; like he was trying to reinforce it to himself just as much as to her. The tears welled in her eyes and the smile grew on her face.

_How long have you loved me? _he asked.

_My entire life, _she signed back. _I've just been waiting to meet you._

He pulled her back down onto the bed and into his arms. There they stayed, holding each other, nothing more. Just holding each other.

Because it wasn't just sex. And when he was a little bit braver and a little more courageous and a little more confident, he would eventually admit to himself, and to her, that it was never just about sex. That he'd fallen in love with her that first moment her eyes had clashed with his and she'd smiled at him. He'd just mistaken it for something else, because he didn't feel worthy. He'd never felt worthy of someone's love. Sex he could manage, but love... Love was more foreign to him than any of the countries he'd been in.

And when he finally admitted that, she took it as a challenge. She proved to him that he was worthy, that he was a good man, that he deserved to be loved, and that he was definitely loved.

She showed him who he really was. Someone special, someone worthy, someone who was very much loved. By more than just her. Because she showed him who he was, which made him see who was around him, made him see those who already loved him in so many different ways. She showed him what love was.

It was never just sex.

With her it was love. It had always been love. It always would be.


End file.
